


Father Christmas Isn't Fit

by Aris_Silverfin, FatlocknDomJohn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Christmas, Established Relationship, Father Christmas - Freeform, Fatlock, John fattens up to look more like santa for sherlock, M/M, Overeating, Weight Gain, belly stuffing, chubby!Sherlock, fat appreciation, fat kink, fat!john, rp fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/pseuds/Aris_Silverfin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatlocknDomJohn/pseuds/FatlocknDomJohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of fun, fluffy, kinky, hot Christmas cheer for all you lovely folks. Happy holidays!</p><p>Sherlock hates Christmas and John sets out to find out why. The doctor goes to great lengths to get Sherlock into the Christmas spirit and past his childhood disappointment. There's just one small snag with John's plan: Father Christmas isn't fit. <br/>But surely, that can be fixed with a little wintertime indulgence...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock played by FatlocknDomJohn
> 
> John by Aris_Silverfin
> 
> Explicit kinky sex to come in next chapter.

Ginger.

The entire flat _reeked_ of _ginger_.

Sherlock hurried down the stairs of 221b, having been hiding away in his Mind Palace for the past several hours, finding everything to be...

_Cheery._

The detective frowned, noting the pine tree strewn with lights in the small living room, bows and tinsel covering damn-near everything in sight, and that _horrible_ smell of _Christmas cookies_ wafting from the kitchen.

"John! What is the meaning of all this?! We've been dating two years, you know I _despise_ anything related to this awful holiday!" The curly haired skeleton growled, stomping toward the kitchen.

 

"Yeah I know, I happen to love it though. Call this a compromise," John called back, just pulling a batch of freshly baked gingerbread from the oven and setting it out to cool. He slipped off his oven mitts and chuckled. "Just be thankful there isn't any Christmas music on too."

John did wonder why Sherlock was so infuriated when it came to Christmas. Hardly anyone seemed capable of detesting a holiday full of sweets, warm cozy lights, and gifts. Maybe he'd always deduced all his presents and ruined the surprise. He prodded one of the gingerbread men, testing the temperature and then picking it up to take a bite. Needed to taste test after all.

"Want one, Scrooge?" John teased. "Though I expect they'll be better when they're cooled and iced properly."

 

Sherlock simply pouted further, and continued,"It's a _foolish_ holiday full of lies perpetrated by foolish parents and stupid elder siblings."

He frowned, crossing his arms, turning his head away from the treat.

"I'll be on the sofa, re-organizing my ash samples. If you need me - don't need me," he spat out, stomping over to the sofa and settling into a deep sulk.

 

"Full of lies? What are you on about?" asked John, raising his eyebrows. Then he had a suspicion. Was this to do with? No... not Sherlock. That would be-oh.

John grabbed his jacket and shoes, pulled on a hat. "I'm heading out to the shops for a bit. Be right back."

 

Sherlock simply grumbled, turning to face the back of the sofa.

 

John returned a half hour later, his purchase in a brown paper bag. He hesitated a moment, pondering. No, better not to give Sherlock even a chance to deduce what he was doing before he revealed the surprise. He ducked into Mrs. Hudson's and changed, pulling a pair of baggy red trousers up over his jeans and stepping into black boots. He slung on the roomy red and white coat and did it up. Maybe he should have gotten it a size down, but that hadn't seemed to fit his muscular shoulders properly. He pulled on a white fluffy beard and pulled the hat onto his head. He looked absolutely ridiculous, John thought, pulling on black gloves as well. Still, if it got a smile out of Sherlock...

He tramped up the stairs and pushed the door open. Well. Best to go all in. He let out a resounding jolly laugh.

"Ho, ho, hoooo!"

 

Sherlock bolted up, looking around desperately for the sound. He hurried to the back hall and- No. No it-

For a moment, for one brief, shining moment Sherlock beamed. His normally sharp, angry eyes went soft, smile wide and inviting, arms instantly opening for a hug, a small, happy laugh escaping his throat.

Then he froze, frowning, crossing his arms.

"Th-that wasn't funny, John" Sherlock said, frowning softly, looking away.

 

"I'm... I'm sorry, love. I wasn't trying to be funny. Come on, talk to me, what's the matter?" John asked, reaching out to grab Sherlock's forearm gently.

 

Sherlock tried to tug away, then simply latched onto his lover, resting his cheek atop the man's cap.

"I... Mummy and Mycroft never explained away Father Christmas. I thought I understood the logic behind it... and then one year," Sherlock sighed, "I made a big show of what he'd brought me in school. I don't remember what year, but I was much too old to be believing in him, I'm sure. They..." Sherlock cleared his throat, escaping John's arms.

"Children can be quite cruel," he concluded, slipping away into the living room, sitting on the sofa and hugging a pillow.

 

"They can be," John agreed, frowning and feeling sad for poor little Sherlock being mocked for still believing in Father Christmas when all the others had had that snatched away from them.

John moved over to the sofa again and sat down beside his lover, rubbing Sherlock's back gently. He pulled down the beard so he could speak properly.

"Harry told me when I was really young. I'd broken something of hers and she was feeling spiteful," explained John with a dry chuckle. He put his hat onto Sherlock's head.

"You should have seen your face though, you looked so happy, love," John murmured, grinning and leaning into his lover, "I didn't get it all the way wrong then..."

 

Sherlock gave a soft smile, accepting his John's warmth, laughing as the hat covered his curls.

"No it was...nice of you. Thoughtful. Father Christmas isn't _fit_ though," Sherlock giggled, his fingers tickling at the doctor's six-pack abs beneath his red suit.

 

John chuckled as Sherlock's fingers tickled him, squirming away slightly.

"No, you're right about that," he admitted, kissing his lover's cheek, "His belly's supposed to be all round and jolly isn't it?" He settled into Sherlock, just relaxing and thinking. The thought formed without John even realizing where it had come from.

"Oh, bugger, almost forgot about the gingerbread. They'll need icing." He stood and stripped off the rest of his costume, then went to the kitchen. He stood before the large tray of undecorated gingerbread. He looked down at his middle, prodded the muscles, then ate each and every one of the cookies before him as he iced them, his stomach protesting and gurgling by the time the next batch had been baked.

It could work. He could afford a few pounds and then lose them again. And if it made Sherlock happy and enjoy Christmas again... well. John could most certainly throw himself into the role.

For the next two weeks, John stuffed himself to bursting on Christmas cookies, hot chocolate, thick hearty stews, and other heavy dishes. He took seconds at every opportunity, groaning as he left the table with his middle distended. He spent his days at the surgery snacking on a variety of things in between clients. His stomach felt almost constantly tight and full. Still, he didn't seem to be gaining very quickly. He took to drinking calorie rich shakes on the way home, taking cabs more often to save on the calories he burned.

Well, if there was anytime to get fat, it was the holidays. And Mrs. Hudson only seemed happy to help, loading John's arms with mountains of home made fudge, peppermint bark, sweets, and cookies as well. And John would plow through as many as he could before he felt too sick and stuffed to continue. His capacity was improving though as time went on. As was his appetite. His trousers definitely were not growing however as they began to bite his softened hips quite persistently, pinch the soft skin gathering under his navel. John switched to his roomier pairs but even those needed to be unbuttoned after dinner.

At least his jumpers did a rather good job of disguising just how much he was eating. Still, at the end of the day, there was a definite roundness as he looked down. It was oddly fascinating, especially in the shower where John was used to looking down and finding washboard abs. Now he just found a rather soft round butterball of belly with a deep navel dimpling the furthermost arc.

He worried sometimes that Sherlock would notice as they laid in bed together, but the detective didn't seem any less enthusiastic. John was careful however not to press up against him too closely, especially if he had eaten a lot during the day. He missed him though. But he told himself it would all be worth it. Even if he had to suck in his gut every time he walked past his lover.

 

Two weeks had indeed passed since the couple's "Father Christmas" talk, and Sherlock was concerned. There was still a bit until Christmas, but John seemed... distant.

He seemed nervous about touching the detective. Oh kisses and compliments occurred just as frequently as ever, but hugs seemed shorter, and whenever they made love Sherlock was too overwhelmed with just how amazing it was to be _touching_ his John to notice the man's climbing weight, online cases keeping him too busy in any other regard.

Today, Sherlock would bring up... whatever had happened. The detective marched into the kitchen.

"John is everything al... right?" Sherlock's eyes went wide, mouth dry. He swallowed.

 

John swallowed too, then quickly straightened up and pulled his bathrobe around himself more closely, worried that Sherlock might have caught a glimpse of the growing belly that was peeking out between his pajamas. He had just eaten rather a lot of cookie dough. Again...

"Er, just in time, I wanted to try this pfeffernus recipe, want to taste one while they're hot?" asked John innocently. Not that they really needed more cookies. He muffled a burp and tried to suck in his stomach further, but it was far too full to compress very much.

 

Sherlock shook his head. That...that couldnt have been right. No. That...

Sherlock stored the image away, telling himself he'd go over it later.

"I...well," Sherlock accepted the sweet treat, he hadn't had Christmas cookies in... The flavor exploded in his mouth, and Sherlock gave a wide, happy smile, letting out a soft moan. The detective blushed, coughing lightly.

"They're... good," he noted.

 

"Good," said John, smiling and popping one into his own mouth, his slightly softened jawline shifting with his chewing motions. "There's plenty to go around. I was about to make tea. "

He reached over to put the kettle on and then stepped up on tiptoe to get the mugs and tea bags out of the cupboards, the knot on his robe riding up over his belly as it pressed out onto the counter. John quickly righted himself again and set about making tea.

"And Mrs. Hudson came by with treacle. I think I might have some of that, myself," he continued, fetching it and setting everything out on the table. He ought to have quite a lot of it actually, and whipped cream. Loads of it. Christmas was only getting closer. He brought the teas over and sat with a sigh, his belly rounding out under his robe and pooching onto his thighs ever so slightly. He served himself a hefty portion and doused the sticky dessert in whipped cream before tucking in.

"Any cases on?" he asked conversationally.

 

Sherlock tried to work out exactly what was happening with his trim, fit, muscled, partner. John couldn't have put on weight... no. No, his workouts were too frequent. He felt something inside him soften at all the treats, shrugging off any negative feelings toward the holiday and scooping extra sugar and cream into his tea, nabbing a small plate of cookies, setting the larger tray in between them and munching away.

"Just as many online cases as I can take, murder always seems to go down around this awful holiday, and I've barely heard from Lestrade. I do believe my brother has finally decided to _court_ the man," he tried to grumble, but he hummed and smiled around a mouthful of cookie.

 

"Even criminals get in the holiday spirit, eh?" chuckled John, eating steadily and sighing as he set about filling his stomach again. He did a double take.

'What? The two of them are together?" he asked, chuckling, "Oh, that's rather sweet though..."

So was this treacle. God, how much toffee was in this sticky thing?

He cut himself another piece and flooded it with whipped cream again as casually as he could muster. He sipped his tea and then dove back in, his stomach feeling heavier already with the rich dessert. He swiped up a bit of whipped cream with one of the other cookies and ate it thoughtfully.

"Good your keeping busy though. Surgery's been rather slow lately." John wasn't exactly complaining. That meant he had more time to eat at his desk during the day. He muffled a burp and shifted back a little to take some pressure off his stomach which was now definitely pushing onto his thighs and out from under his shirt. Luckily the robe was still covering him completely. Though it was feeling bothersome and tight. He pushed the band down a bit, willing to risk it with a table between the two of them.

 

"Well that's good to hear, though I don't know why you hang on to that terrible job," Sherlock teased, rising to get a second cup of tea, "And yes! Greg has known Mycroft almost as long as he's known me, and my brother has held quite the crush on him since their very first meeting. Of course what with Greg's marriage and subsequent divorce, I assume my brother was just...just giving Greg a little...time"

Sherlock swallowed heavily after turning back toward the table.

From this angle it looked as if John had...

The trim, fit soldier looked positively _fat._ The detective felt color rise to his cheeks. Of course, it couldn't be true. Just the angle at which John was sitting, the amount of tea sloshing about in that... that _gut._ Sherlock coughed lightly, moving to settle back down at the table and crossing his legs. Why was the thought of such a heavier John so... arousing? He sipped at his tea, his color returning to normal.

"I took the liberty of inviting Greg over for Christmas, I assumed it was alright with you," Sherlock smiled, "I should've checked, though, did you want Harry coming? I know things are still a bit rough in her social life"

 

John had sucked in his breath a bit as Sherlock moved. Now he relaxed, trying to be as discrete about it as he could, his belly rounding up against his robe yet again.

"Oh, yeah. We can try. And Yeah... Greg could come," said John, feeling slightly concerned. Well... he could surprise Sherlock in the morning then. The others were bound to notice. Harry would have a field day if she came and saw her brother gone all soft like this.

He sipped more of his tea and reached for more cookies. He had to get himself properly stuffed. Then he could lay around until dinner and then eat all he could again. He cut a third smaller piece of treacle even as his belly gurgled.

 

"I was hoping so, I don't really see any of them having anywhere to spend the holiday, Mrs. Hudson _insisted_ on cooking, so she's got a week to prepare just about every recipe she knows," Sherlock chuckled, then stood, crossing to his boyfriend and kissing the man's forehead.

"And they won't be over until the evening of the 25th, so the night of the 24th we can put out cookies and see if Father Christmas shows up," he joked, pouring John another cup of tea, then stuffing a few more cookies into his mouth.

Sherlock prodded his own stomach lightly as he walked toward the living room to answer a few more cases, finding just a touch of softness there, perhaps more than a touch. John's stews seemed to be having an effect. But wasn't holiday weight normal? Sherlock popped another cookie into his mouth as he settled down with his laptop. Perhaps Christmas wasnt so terrible after all.

 

"Sounds good," said John grinning, "Maybe the cookies you put out weren't his favorite so he was full by the time he came to your house."

He chuckled and carved out another piece of treacle after Sherlock left. His eyes fluttered closed as his stomach groaned. He forced it down however, rubbing idly at the side of the round ball of fat his abs had become. He let out the softest groan, then finished his tea.

"I'm going to go lay down a bit," John called, as he waddled to their bedroom and flopped down. He massaged his belly, marveling at how tight the skin felt, how much it arched up under his chest. He grabbed a handful, jiggled it a bit. His finger slipped into his navel and drew small circles. John's breathing grew rough and uneven, the weight on his midsection somehow... God...

He reached down and lazily began stroking his cock with one hand while the other circled his overfull stomach slowly.

Five more days.

And John would make full use of each one.

Christmas Eve's dinner was a rather elaborate fare, John trying to swallow down every calorie he could muster before the next morning. And eating a lot at Christmas was expected so John went completely to town. There was a huge honeyed ham, mashed potatoes mixed with cream and butter, gravy with more cream in it, vegetables doused in butter, beer, and of course a monstrous rice pudding for dessert.

John was hiccuping by the end of it, his stomach clearly outlined by even his loosest jumper, his trousers biting him even with the button undone. John groaned and pressed a hand to his middle, grimacing, his breath coming out rather shallowly.

He did his best to sit up normally.

"W-want to watch a movie? Or just get to bed?" he asked, tugging his jumper down over his massively bloated middle.

 

Sherlock sat on the couch, hiccuping and giggling around a full, positively plump looking belly full of much too much eggnog, the alcohol loosening up the detective's stomach enough for him to finish off not two but three plates of cookies after dinner.

"Jaawwwn!" He laughed, extending his arms out to his partner, willing him to leave his chair and snuggle with the detective.

"Is Chismas," he giggled.

 

"Hurp-yes it is, love," John said, grinning and pulling Sherlock in to kiss him. Christ... he didn't know if he could move...

"Oh, hang on, we should leave the cookies out for Father Christmas," said John, hauling himself up with the help of the table and his lover. He managed not to groan too badly as his stomach sagged down. At least Sherlock was drunk.

 

Sherlock toppled into laying on the sofa as John stumbled up, too drunk to pull back his lean.

"Mer kissmas," he giggled, yawning sleepily, then blinked, hurrying up and following John to the kitchen.

"Y-yes! Fath kismash haz to come, I wanted... what did I want?" Sherlock asked, slumping into his lover, rubbing his cheek against the doctor's sandy hair

"You smell gud, like cookies," he babbled, giggling.

 

John chuckled and reached behind him to pat him softly.

"You want to leave out Father Christmas's favorite cookies so he'll come visit and bring you a present," John reminded him, smiling at his lover. He fetched a plate and laid several cookies out neatly on the dish.

"How's that look?"

Then they should probably get to bed with Sherlock being in the state he was, John thought warmly. He gave the detective a quick side-armed hug and then waddled his way to the fireplace to set the cookies down.

 

Sherlock followed like an excited, drunken puppy, looking over the plate carefully. He drew a hand to his chin, stroking it over-dramatically. The detective swapped two cookies, the took John's hand gently, part of his brain noting just how... soft it felt.

"We gotta goto bed...Father Chris*hic*christmas iz coming," he smiled, tugging John towards their bedroom.

 

John smiled and followed after. He collapsed with a low groan and wriggled out of his clothing. He hoped Sherlock's drunkenness would also mean that the man would be liable to sleep in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highly NSFW. Enjoy! :)

When he woke the next morning, John felt positively massive and hardly any less full than when he'd gone to bed. He grunted and rubbed his belly slightly. Then he remembered his plan and got out of bed as quickly and as quietly as he could. He turned on the light in the bathroom to make it seem like that was where he was. He climbed up the stairs to his old room where he had stashed the costume and put it on. He eyed himself in the mirror, rubbing a hand over his much, much rounder middle thoughtfully. It was actually looking a touch tight!

He turned around. "Jesus..."

He had gotten fat. This was more than a few pounds. Maybe a couple stone, but... he did look like father Christmas. He patted his middle and watched in astonishment as it seemed to jiggle underneath. Right. He climbed down the stairs and set a small wrapped gift next to the mantle. Then he sat and began nibbling on the biscuits, waiting for Sherlock to discover him.

Sherlock turned over in bed.

"Oh, John... I may have had a bit too much to-John?" he asked, flipping open the blankets and staring at the empty space he found there.

John must be getting dressed... Did he have to work? Oooo... Jesus, Sherlock's head was pounding

He popped a few painkillers he found in the bedside table, then sat on the side of the bed, stretching upward.

Sherlock noted the small tummy he was sporting, moving his hands to squeeze the bit of soft flesh. It looked...good. Like he was taken care of, which the curly haired man most certainly was. He rubbed at his eyes, wandering out of the bedroom and yawning loudly. Perhaps he could heat up some of the leftover ham from last night, if there was any left, John seemed to have really enjoyed-

Sherlock froze.

It was... no. No it couldn't be! The detective's mouth fell open.

Father Christmas got to his feet, crumbs falling from his beard as he stood.

"Ho, ho, ho," he laughed deeply, his round belly jiggling, "Merry Christmas, Sherlock!"

His dark blue eyes twinkled merrily as he stepped forward, his mouth obscured by the snowy white beard, a hand on his bulbous middle.

"Thank you for the sweets! Though I'm afraid I might not fit up your chimney any longer." He laughed again, a deep warm belly laugh.

Sherlock's eyes went wide, shimmering with emotion. Part of his brain screamed, "This could be a burglar! A hired gun!" but the overwhelming part of him felt only a flood of childhood innocence he didn't know he still had within him.

He approached Father Christmas slowly, with reverence, a massive smile beaming on his face

"You...you came. This...it doesn't make sense, you came and-" Sherlock looked under the tree, brain nearly imploding as it counter the number of gifts there.

Sherlock's gaze flicked back to the truly jolly man before him. Thick, meaty arms framing a set of fattened pectoral muscles, shelved above a massive gut, one that arched out of the shorter man's frame and truly shook like a bowl of jelly when the man laughed.

His cheeks were slightly rounded about his white beard and cherry red, eyes full of kindness and warmth.

"You came and brought me presents" Sherlock said, voice full of emotion, "So...so I was good?" He laughed, eyes shining.  
"You were very good," said Father Christmas, his voice growing gentle as he reached out to put a gloved hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Though, you might want to watch out about storing body parts in the flat without telling John in future."

He chuckled again, so very kindly. "But yes. You were very good this year, Sherlock. I'm not surprised in the least."

He gave the man's shoulder a squeeze.  
Sherlock gently brought "Father Christmas" into a warm hug, his plump tummy squashing against the man's huge gut.

"Thank you," he murmured, leaning down to kiss John's cheek above his beard. "That's...no one's ever been so nice to me, John. I...I don't know how I got so lucky." The curly haired man said, eyes soft as his looked upon the doctor's face.

John drew his arms around his lover and gave him a squeeze in return, hugging him properly.

"I love you, Sherlock," John offered as his only explanation, "There is... one more thing."

He reached for a tiny box wrapped in silver paper on the mantle and held it out for Sherlock. "Merry Christmas."

Sherlock grinned widely.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he laughed, greedily taking the present and tearing off its paper.

He opened the box, eyes going wide and brain shutting down. Sherlock looked from it to John, mouth falling open.

John had sunk to one knee, removed the goofy hat and pulled off the beard. In the black box was a silver ring with a gorgeous stone set into it and surrounded by tiny artful etchings of bees.

John swallowed, looking up at his detective, at his lover, at his Sherlock, his life. The question on his lips was all at once so simple and so profound.

"Sherlock Holmes, will you marry me?"

Sherlock felt all the air leave his body. It was replaced by pure light.

The detective beamed, nodding wildly and extending his hand for John to put the ring on, then tugging the doctor up by his coat, the seams audibly straining, and pulling him into a crushing, passionate kiss

John smiled and slipped the ring onto Sherlock's finger, then chuckled into their kiss before it left him breathless.

He smiled at his lover in a soft love-sick sort of way as they broke to breathe.

"So, that's a yes then?" he teased, drawing his arms around the lanky man, his round belly bumping into Sherlock's. He willed himself not to blush.

Sherlock rubbed his nose against the other man's.

"Yes," he whispered, giving the man's lips another peck.

"This was... Oh John, this was amazing. Brilliant," he complimented, kissing the doctor's... _soft_ jawline. No, it must be Sherlock's imagination, though the thought did send a wave a heat below his slightly fattened middle.

"Well, I love you, you prat," murmured John, chuckling and pressing in a bit closer to kiss softly in return, nipping at his lover's neck. "I thought it was high time we made things official. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Why shouldn't we be married?" He chuckled and slid his hands down a bit until they were circled around his love's waist. He had missed holding him like this.

"I decided that the moment I saw you," Sherlock smiled, leaning back into John.

He blushed a bit as John encircled his waist, suddenly becoming aware of the dozen or so pounds he'd packed onto his skinny frame, softening up his hard edges, giving the detective a round, voluptuous pair of hips, a round tummy, and two, fat spheres where his bony bottom once was.

"I've put on a bit weight I think, all that baking you've been doing," he chuckled, scratching at the back of his head, "I...like it. The weight. I hope that's alright." He offered, hands moved to snake around John's back, then laughing.

"What did you stuff this suit with? It feels...it feels very real," Sherlock said, voice going a bit husky as he stroke the suits velvet sides.

"It looks good on you," John murmured near his lover's ear, his hands smoothing over his lover's hips and backside, "Feels good too."

He stiffened however as Sherlock's question struck him.

"I... er. With me," he answered, his face flushing almost as red as his suit, " I might have... that is..."

Oh Jesus... he could just have stuffed the suit! What the hell had he done?

"Don't worry! I can slim down again before the wedding! I just, I just wanted to give you this Father Christmas thing and... oh God. Maybe I overdid it a bit," babbled John, stepping back and running a hand down his very fat, very round belly. He hardly recognized himself. He swallowed and jiggled the lot again.

Sherlock's eyes went wide as John revealed that...no, no it was impossible. That fit, trim, tight solider had-

John jiggled his _gut_ and...

Sherlock swallowed, cheeks flushing bright red, pupils dilating.

"You mean you..." Sherlock reached out, heat rushing southward as he rubbed a hand over the dome of John''s belly.

"It's all...all this...all you?" The detective breathed, licking his lips, cock hardening rapidly as he stroked the doctor's sides.

"God John you're so... _fat_ ," he breathed out the word with reverence, adoration, almost panting now.

"I-I, er yeah... I have gotten a bit," stuttered John, blushing even redder if that were possible, "But like I said... I can drop it again if-"

His breath shuddered as he felt Sherlock's hands on him, heard that edge to his lover's voice. Oh. He felt fat. Huge. Soft. Heavy. He groaned softly.

"Please, please don't," Sherlock murmured, hands exploring the fleshy sphere, hefting it up and letting it drop, watching as it set into a sea of jiggling softness,

"Jesus John, you..." The detective let out a groan.

"Can I...can I see? Bed, now. I need you, John, please," he begged, moving his head to kiss and nibble desperately at John's jawline, letting out small, pleased sounds as his hands found more and more lover to feel and squeeze.

"Take me, take me please" He moaned

John felt all the blood coloring his cheeks rush down to his lower belly instead, filling his cock to hardness.

"Of course you can," John growled, his pulse rising at Sherlock's eagerness. "Bring some cookies along if you want me even bigger... would you like that?"

He smirked and pressed into Sherlock, his belly bumping into the detective. So he liked this? They both liked this? Oh God... he was going to get so fat over the winter...

Sherlock felt all the air rush out of him, whimper as his big bear of fiancé pressed into him, nodding wildly. He hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a tray of cookies and milk and looked to John shyly, swallowing and nodding towards the bedroom.

John smirked and led the way, shedding off the slightly ridiculous suit along the way until he was just in a pair of tightly stretched red pants. The band dug into his hips hard, creating blooming love handles that rolled and shifted as he walked. John's belly was really starting to sag now. He demonstrated that as he waited by the bed for Sherlock to set the things down. He lifted and rubbed it lightly, trailed a finger in his navel.

"So, what have you got for me?" he asked in a rumble.

Sherlock just stared, enraptured by his lover's massive, beautiful form.

"C-cookies. We still have...have so many batches I..." Sherlock trailed off, biting his lip with a small moan as his eyes ate up John's form.

"A-and whole milk," he stammered, moving over to the bed and setting the tray down, slipping off his own pajama pants and soft jumper, a pair of green pants stretched across his full bottom, plump belly turning to small rolls as he leaned forward nibble on a cookie himself, smiling softly at the sweetness.

"Mm, great. We'll have plenty to snack on," murmured John, stalking towards his lover and grabbing a couple of the cookies. He stuffed them into his mouth, one after the other, then took a long swallow of the thick and rich milk. His belly grew a touch rounder, a bit heavier.

Then he crowded into Sherlock, kissing him hard and pushing him back down onto the bed. He practically pinned the man the the mattress with his new gut, pressing his weight onto the slimmer but softening detective.

"Want another?" he offered, staring almost hungrily down at him.

Sherlock let out pleased squeal as he was crushed, moaning as he felt John's weight settled on top of him. He nodded, a little shyly, blush on his cheeks.

"Y-yes, please," he said, letting his mouth fall open, trying to push up his belly into John's massive gut.

John selected another sweet and placed it in his mouth. Then he grinned and dipped his head down to his lover so they could each have a hummed and chewed, then swallowed it down. He prodded Sherlock's middle as it arched up into his own.

"Hm. Careful, love. Unless you want a big heavy gut like mine..." he warned, smirking. He shifted his hips a bit, grinding a very prominant erection against Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock swallowed the sweet down, then turned redder at John's comment, moaning loudly as the doctor frotted against him

"A-and if I...if I did?" He murmured, "Would you...what would you do?" Sherlock bit his lip, arms slipping out to squeeze at the fattened solider's prominent love handles.

"Probably fuck you to Sunday. And then make sure mine was even bigger," John growled, slipping his head in to nibble and suck at Sherlock's neck, his softened fattened body pressing into his lover again.

"Turn over," he murmured, shifting off a little bit so Sherlock could move, his hand moving down to rub at Sherlock's side in return.

Sherlock moaned happily and obeyed, flipping over and arching his back up, presenting his rounded arse to John.

John hummed in approval, wetting his lips and rolling down Sherlock's pants. He kissed the pale round skin underneath, then set about preparing Sherlock with one hand, his other slipped over to the plate for more biscuits.

Then Sherlock was ready and John was feeling rather full.

"Ready?" he murmured, lifting his gut up and letting it fall onto Sherlock's lower back as he lined himself up.

Sherlock gasped and moaned as John prepared him, having to bury his face into a pillow as John hefted his massive belly onto him.

"Yes! God, John! Yes!"

John growled happily and pressed into Sherlock as far as he could go, his belly resting heavily on the man's back. Then he pulled out again and slid in more quickly, building up a rhythm until he was pounding into Sherlock, his belly shaking and jiggling with the motions, his fingers digging into the detective's pale hips for purchase, admiring the few extra pounds that had crept onto the bones there.

"You're gorgeous," John purred, "And all mine now. Mine forever, _fiance_ ," he teased, murmuring and panting in Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock groaned, panting as John claimed him.

"Sherlock _Watson_ ," he purred back, nibbling John's jawline, "I _love_ it." His hands moved to grip John's love handles, squeezing them and jiggling the man's gut.

As John thrust himself in again and again Sherlock moaned and whimpered, losing himself in pleasure, feeling John's massive gut jiggling and bounce against him.

"J-John! John yes! I-I love you! Love you so much!"

John gave a soft little moan at that, gritting his teeth to last just a bit longer.

"I love you too, so much... so much Sherlock." he panted. He panted and grunted, hugging Sherlock to him with one arm as he pounded into him.

His thrusts grew erratic, his muscles tensing as his orgasm burst from him. He shouted Sherlock's name, shuddering and gasping with the force of it until he collapsed against his lover, kissing every bit of skin he could reach and moaning softly.

"I love you... so beautiful... Sherlock..."

Sherlock came moments after, panting, purring as John kissed and worshiped him, feeling perfectly crushed.

"My John" He hummed, peppering every part of his fattened lover he could find with kisses. He rubbed the man's wide, soft back slowly.

"So were you...serious about... putting on a bit more?" Sherlock asked, blushing lightly

John blinked, then chuckled and drew his arms around Sherlock, rolling them over so that Sherlock was on top of him.

"Hm... I think so yeah," he murmured, kissing him gently, "I like having a bit more weight I can throw around. And if you like it... well. I think I can gain as much as I like."

Sherlock beamed, smothering John's face in kisses, squealing excitedly

"I'll get some more cookies! Don't move!" He cheered, given John one last, deep snog before dashing from the room

John kissed back, chuckling at his lover's eagerness. He sighed happily, watching him rush off, bare-arsed.

He hummed and lay back, rubbing his new belly idly. Yes. He saw many more years of this to come.

That prediction proved true as the years found John growing steadily rounder and softer. They were married now, and decidedly domestic. John wouldn't have pictured his life ending up like this before he met Sherlock, but well, he had met Sherlock. And now this was perfection, lounging on the sofa with his lover and dutifully eating whatever little morsel he was offered.

Sherlock leaned into his one, true love, rubbing his nose against the perfectly massive man and giving his chubby cheek a kiss, one hand exploring the gut that stretched the man's XL jumper to the point of straining, the other feeding him. He squashed his own, fat gut into John's side, their blissful domesticity proving to be very effective on Sherlock's waistline.

"Happy Five Year Anniversary, love. Here's to a million more," he grinned, softly, popping a chocolate in each of their mouths.

"Mmm... here's to forever," agreed John, smiling and leaning in for a deep and chocolatey kiss.


End file.
